


Oh Dang! Bigfoot Stole My Brothers

by ethandiesofdysentery



Category: My Brother My Brother and Me (Podcast), The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Genderswap, Metafiction, Non-Canonical, anyways here's wonderwall, crackfic, gratuitous nineties vibes by an author who was born in 2003, i think i spelled stephanies name right, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethandiesofdysentery/pseuds/ethandiesofdysentery
Summary: "Well," says the mildly threatening small child, "you're a strange woman standing in MY house whereIlive, so that's cool I guess.""Yeah," Justin responds weakly. "Super fuckin' cool."(OR)If they had to be thrust into their own roles in one of their fictional worlds, could it at least have been not this one?
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. A Tiny Dayglo Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is a girl and Griffin is eleven. What do you want, an explanation?

Justin McElroy is standing in the middle of his childhood living room holding a very black leather purse and staring at the most terrifying neon-clad child he has ever seen.

This is usually the "record scratch, freeze frame" part of a story, where we zoom out and flash back to the weird and wacky adventures that got us to this moment. But not this time. Justin is one hundred percent not sure what the fuck he's doing here, where, from his point of view, he has been for about two seconds.

"Well," says the mildly threatening small child, cocking a challenging hip boldly in Justin's direction, "you're a strange woman standing in MY house where _I_ live, so that's cool I guess."

"Yeah," Justin responds weakly, too shellshocked to be confused. "Super fuckin' cool."

Courtesy of the full length living room mirror, he can definitively agree with the kid's "strange woman" assessment. He does not see himself in the mirror. He sees a short teenage girl in nothing but black, which includes eyeliner, lipstick, and a short bob with razor straight bangs. When Justin moves, the reflection moves.

In summary, yeah. Suuuuper fuckin' cool.

"Hey, so I'm like eleven I think? And I don't think you're supposed to be saying the fuck word around me."

Justin looks back to the miniature annoyance before him and raises a (perfectly lined) eyebrow. "You think?"

"Yeah, fuck if I know," says the eleven year old gremlin. "I woke up here like two minutes ago and my generic mother figure says you're my babysitter so like…THAT'S happening?"

"Language," Justin says uselessly, mostly to give himself time to process this new information. So much new information. Slowly, he begins to piece together the thousand-piece puzzle that his life has become in all of two seconds. So much of this feels familiar, on a scale from "vague deja vu" to "I am almost certain I have worn this exact outfit before". He's pretty sure he's missing half the pieces, and he doesn't know what the big picture is supposed to be in the first place, but what he does know is that this pesky neon pain in the ass in front of him is-

" _Griffin_?" Justin is somehow more shocked by Griffin's appearance than his own. Justin has literally worn this exact outfit before, except this time it's not a wig and there are tits. But Griffin is fucking - fucking _miniscule_. He's a tiny little dayglo babyface piece of shit wrapped in the most terrible sweatsuit and sweatband Justin has ever seen. Griffin also looks unsettling like himself, in that his face appears to be the result of throwing Real Adult Man Griffin through a woodchipper of a photo editing bot and then shrinking him into a tiny ball of glow-in-the-dark terror. Justin is suddenly very chill about the whole "all tits, no dick" thing, because at least he just looks seventeen, and not thirty, eleven, and five all at the same time.

"No shit it's Griffin," Griffin replies, having apparently decided he can say whatever the fuck he wants with his eleven year old mouth now. "I sure hope you aren't babysitting the wrong fucking kid."

Justin is going to have an aneurysm. (He pauses for a moment, expecting Sydnee to say something about how terribly hyperbolic that is, but then remembers that she isn't here.) Not only is this a lot of information really fucking fast, but it turns out baby brothers become infinitely more obnoxious when you make them brightly colored and also eleven. And that's not even mentioning the fact that, if Justin has this crazy situation right, this terrible little brother can also do karate and turn into a fucking _car_.

Thank god they made sure this was non-canonical.

"No, uh, Griffin," he begins eloquently, desperately hoping that he's not the only one awake inside this dated nightmare. "I mean, it's me. It's -Ditto, it's Justin."

Griffin _guffaws_. That's not a word Justin ever expected to use, but fuck if it isn't the right one right now. The horrid little preteen nearly curls in on himself laughing as he chokes out, "Oh that's really good then huh! That's fuckin' WONDERFUL! That's my good ol' JUICE THE J-MAN in the black lipstick and leather jacket!"

Justin does not appreciate this mockery. "Hey. You don't bully Trav when _he_ wears makeup."

"Of course not," eleven year old Griffin McElroy responds. "Because Trav is Trav and you're a teenage goth girl in my living room."

Justin would argue, but he's suddenly aware of something else, perhaps a bigger issue than which brother could rock this black lipstick better. "Where…is Travis? Is he here?" He locks eyes with Griffin, who takes a break from being terrible to be concerned instead. "You know where we are, right?"

Griffin nods. "I guess that makes him the DM. So…if he were 'here' in the first place, would he even show up?"

Justin doesn't want to be the one to say it, but he has been left no choice. "There's only one way to find out."

Griffin smirks, eleven year old belligerence restored. "Then I guess I have a birthday party to not get to."


	2. A Momentary Lapse Of Existence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis loses contact. Justin loses his mind.
> 
> (MBMBAM question courtesy of the author's deathly fear of meeting Rileigh Smirl during their upcoming Marshall University campus tour. Author has a terminal case of committing to the bit.)

"We can all agree question asker is _not_ good, right?"

Travis McElroy is pretty sure he has said these exact words so many times before, but the sheer volume of people who want to know if they are good while simultaneously being most certainly not good is…a lot. This time, it's a college student who has just befriended their celebrity crush while pretending to have no idea who their new friend is. The question of, "She's asked me on a date, is it too late to tell her? Should I burn my merch? Am I good?" seems like an obvious NO YOU ARE NOT, but for whatever reason people still feel the need to ask.

In the time Travis has run this detailed recap through his head, he has yet to hear any response from his brothers, which is odd, especially because this seems like the type of question Griffin would lose his absolute shit over. When Travis's eyes wander back to his computer screen, he finds Skype showing him two empty recording rooms. One hundred percent brother free. Travis laughs nervously.

"Hey, y'all? This is a weird bit. Especially for an audio medium. You know listeners can't see that you're hiding, right?" There is no response from either of the live feeds of nothing-filled rooms. Travis has a weird feeling about this. A bad weird feeling. "Guys, the period of Goof Laughability has expired. Now it's weird." This still elicits no response. The elder and younger McElroys are known to commit to a bit to a fault, but they would have heard the beginnings of a panic attack in Travis's voice by now and come back into frame. Something is wrong.

At this moment, there is movement in Justin's room. Travis doesn't even have time to get his hopes up before he sees Sydnee poking her head through the door. She looks concerned. None of this is a good sign. "Justin?" she says to the empty room.

"Syd?" Travis says, prompting Sydnee to jump a little in surprise, before looking up and seeing Travis on Justin's computer.

"Uh, hey Trav," she says with an awkward little wave. "Where'd your brother go?"

Oh, yeah, all of this is a terrible fucking sign. Travis's heart is beating way too hard.

"I don't know," he responds weakly. "He just…disappeared."

Sydnee and Travis hold eye contact for what feels like a full minute before Sydnee speaks.

"Fuck," she says. "Something really wrong has just happened."

///

It's been a long time since Justin was the not-so-proud owner of a 1992 Cutlass Sierra. It's just as terrible as he remembers it.

"Why did Trav have to write this horrible car into the plot?" Justin asks in Stephanie McDuggins's low drawl. "I never wanted to be in this car again. And you-" He turns to his right shortly to acknowledge Eleven Year Old Garbage Boy Griffin McElroy, "-should not legally be riding shotgun. You're _eleven_."

"Technically I'm 33," Griffin replies in his terrible terrible eleven year old voice.

"And technically I'm 39 and a man, but sure, let's see how that holds up in court," Justin responds without missing a fuckin' beat, gesturing with one hand to his Nineteen Year Old Teen Girl Body as he makes what he assumes to be another wrong turn. He knows that, for plot's sake, they're _supposed_ to get lost, but that doesn't mean he feels any better about the twilit woods of the Monongahela National Forest. (Or, as Travis would say, Mah-non-gay-lee-uh. Griffin would then say WRONG. Fuck, Justin misses their middlest brother.)

It's just then that something appears in the middle of the road - a huge fallen log, splayed across the otherwise surprisingly pristine forest path. The deja vu hits hard. The plot device is large, wooden, and preventing them from going any further. The Sierra's Sometimes Brakes, miraculously, work, rolling the car to a stop just before it hits the obstacle.

Justin turns back to Griffin, who is now looking significantly less cocky.

"Hey, bud," he says, attempting a weak smile. "You ready to meet Bigfoot?"


	3. A Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bigfoot has a gun. Sydnee and Travis are relevant for three whole paragraphs. Griffin does it to 'em.
> 
> A/N: STORYTIME NOT CLICKBAIT i just got a call from huntington west virginia which made my heart STOP until i remembered i applied to marshall and it was just a dude from admissions asking if i had any questions but he went "hey is this [deadname]?" and i said "uh yeah but actually i go by sydnee" and the thing is i normally spell my name after i say it bc everyone assumes its sydney obviously but i was SO AWARE i was one fucking degree removed from Actual Real Life Sydnee McElroy and if i revealed the spelling he might associate me with her ESPECIALLY because im actually going into medicine and if i have to talk to real life sydnee fucking mcelroy i will actually die so anyways that's how MY day is going

Barclay has been having a fucking wild day.

He could recount the circumstances that led him here, but frankly, it's not worth it, and it's not important to the plot anyways. In summary, he's wandering around the forest, looking like a suh-squatch, on the run from the forest cops. That being said, the forest cops aren't too serious. Forest law is kinda weak, unlike city law, or, heaven forbid, swamp law. Thank god he's not in a swamp.

The thing is, Barclay needs to be in Kepler, like, yesterday. Barclay is not in Kepler. He needs to fix this. His tool of choice? Car.

Okay, so maybe he doesn't have a car. But who knows, maybe he'll find one in the middle of the fuckin' woods! Before he can truly laugh at the stupidity of that thought, he sees headlights.

"Holy shit," he says, dumbfounded. "Deus ex fuckin' machina, I guess."

///

Travis has been on the phone with Sydnee for many, many hours - the exact amount of hours it takes to break the speed limit, reach the airport, book a last-last-last-minute flight, and casually hop over from Ohio to West Virginia, in fact. He only hangs up when he sees her standing physically in front of him, hair tied up in a messy "I won't sleep tonight"-style bun, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater. Travis runs up and pulls her into a huge hug. Sydnee just shakes.

"Do you know what's going on?" she whispers, the panic in her voice not at all hidden. Travis's heart squeezes.

"No," he replies. "But we'll figure it out. I promise."

///

"Don't turn around!"

Griffin McElroy is going to have a coronary, and there's no sister-in-law to tell him that's an over-exaggeration. There's a lot of things he might be expected to be thinking in such a nonsensical situation, but the only thing his brain will provide is _Wow, Bigfoot sounds like my brother_. Oh, also, he turns around.

Fuckin' actual real life Bigfoot is standing there, looking sufficiently panicked by the fact this brightly colored child has so quickly disobeyed his plea. After all this, Griffin is surprisingly unimpressed by actual real life Bigfoot. Hell, Justin's a girl, and that's definitely weirder.

Justin/Stephanie's voice pierces the silence of the standoff. "HEY, GRIFF! DO KARATE ON HIM!"

Oh, yes. Griffin had forgotten he could do that now. That's a good idea. He takes up a defensive stance, and then starts kicking and slicing the air like nobody's business, all while making those famous karate noises like HOO and HAI and KYAH and OH SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT BIGFOOT'S GUN.

"Don't make me use this," says Bigfoot, hands shaking. Griffin knows he wouldn't, but he still does not enjoy the pistol directed straight towards his face. Apparenty, neither does Justin, who yells, "Hey, get that weapon away from my eleven year old charge, asshole!"

Bigfoot appears to be deciding whether or not to listen, and then decides on the "not" option. "I don't want to hurt you!" he says. "I just need your car!"

"Why do you want _this_ piece of shit?" Justin asks, slapping the roof of the car, just like that long dead meme.

"I need to get to Kepler!" explains the suh-squatch, to two people who already know his entire life story. Neither of them feel like bringing that part up, though. "I…I know this sounds weird, but I lost my bracelet!"

Justin, for his part, answers exactly the way he had when this was a fun live show and not a living technicolor nineties nightmare. "Oh, yeah, the bracelet that turns you human again when you wear it. Yeah, that makes sense." Griffin can tell his older brother is trying so fucking hard not to laugh.

"Listen," Bigfoot says, "I just need your car." And then he makes a beeline for the driver's door, which Justephanie is very ineffectively blocking with his body.

"Well, actually," he begins as Bigfoot climbs into the NINETEEN FUCKING NINETY-TWO CUTLASS FUCKIN' SIERRA, "it's my brother Dylan's car." He gives Griffin a worried look that means _my brother's name is supposed to be Dylan right?_ to which Griffin shrugs _yeah that sounds right_. "And Dylan," Justin continues after his fictional brother's identity is confirmed, "will not be happy to hear that you stole his car."

Bigfoot is already in the driver's seat, spinning the wheels. "Sorry! I'll leave it for you in Kepler!" he yells as the Sierra rips off, swerving around the fallen log in a maneuver that probably should have caused the car to fracture into a million tiny pieces. Griffin frowns as he watches the car speed into the distance. "I feel like we skipped some important dialogue," he says. The interaction had felt crazy rushed.

"Nah," Justin replies, "we just missed dialogue."


End file.
